


Your Hands Cold As They Find My Neck

by ever_neutral



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 21:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ever_neutral/pseuds/ever_neutral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things stay the same. Other things get fucking chopped into pieces. Such is life.</p><p>[set in S4 + post-S4]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Hands Cold As They Find My Neck

  
She's all by her lonesome under a sprig of poison, red and green lights dancing off her face; she looks as bored and as perfect as one of those mannequins in shop windows. He reckons she looks a bit lost. Not that he'd ever let her know that.

He's been keeping his distance, doing the respectful thing and that. But this (she) is just too much to pass up.

"Fuckin' rank place, this is."

She jumps, just barely, but enough for him to notice. Recovers in an instant, cool and unaffected. Looks him up and down. "People are pretty shit too."

There's no real bite to her words. He grins, tongue and teeth. "And what 'bout you, peachy?" Steps closer, enough to smell her perfume. It's intoxicating. Odd that, he didn't remember. "What's a girl like you doing on your own under the _Viscum album_?"

She cocks an eyebrow. Glances up, rolls her eyes. "Didn't even notice."

"Well." He goes for playful. "Your mistake, innit." Lands somewhere between desperate and obnoxious, as per usual. She hasn't moved though. Doesn't seem bothered. "So. Give us a kiss, then," he says, casual like. Doesn't want to make a big thing of it, scare her off. Nothing like that.

She crosses her arms, all fucking cool and nonchalant. But not like she used to be. Can't meet his eyes. "Forget it, Cook." Big dolled-up eyes flick to the left. "Freddie's at the bar."

"He buying your drinks for you now?"

A twitch of her mouth. "That's what boyfriends and girlfriends do, you know."

Cook grins. "Nah, wouldn't know anything about that."

She smiles. Doesn't mean to. Does anyway. It's just like old times. It's a joke between the two of them, a joke that's on everyone else. Fuck everyone else.

He's missed this. (He always does. But especially now.)

"Oy, Eff, this do?"

Freddie's back. With beer.

"Sure," she says flatly. Takes the bottle and fastens her lips around the neck, wasting no time.

Freddie's eyebrows are both surprised and impressed. He notices Cook for the first time. "Hey. Didn't know you'd be here." Slides an arm around Effy's shoulders. She makes no sign that she’s noticed, just keeps drinking.

Cook lifts his shoulders in a lazy shrug. "Sodding Christmas." As if that explains everything. "Where else you gonna be."

"Right," Freddie says, brow furrowed.

Fucking pointless exchange, Cook thinks. Where else _would_ he be? It's not like there's a fucking tree waiting for him back at the boarding place.

Effy comes up for air. "Hey, Freds." Voice husky. "Look up."

Freddie does. Laughs a bit.

Cook can see where this is going. "Yeah, well, catch you losers later." Hitches up his suspenders. "Got things and people to do, you know how it is."

Effy snakes an arm around Freddie's waist, gazes at Cook from below her eyelids.

It makes him ill, truthfully.

"Bye, Cook," Freddie says to his retreating back.

  
\---

Another year, another Christmas. Another divey party. (No more Freddie.) They're on the run again. It's only natural. Some things stay the same. Other things get fucking chopped into pieces. Such is life.

"Look, Cook," Effy says, grabbing his shirt, voice like a child's. "Fuckin' poison."

He looks up. He's too fucking old for this.

She's knotting her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. "Give us a kiss then," she orders, lifting her face up to him. Neon lights dance off the hollows below her cheekbones.

He looks at her, and sees a ghost. Cups her face anyway, locks his mouth on to hers like a starving man. She's eager, and hungry, hands digging into his shirt. Later they'll probably fuck against a vomit-stained wall. Height of seasonal joy, 'course.

They stay like that for a bit, clinging to one another like something or other depends on it. A secret nobody else is privy to. (Fuck everyone else.)

Finally, Effy detaches herself from him, eyes unfocused and out of breath. Pulls on his shirt restlessly.

He tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "What'd you want, babe?"

She's quiet for a long moment, then shrugs. "Nothing." Tucks her chin on his shoulder. "There's nothing." Buries her face into his neck. "Just you."

He swallows a lump. Puts his arms around her, holds her small figure to him. There's no urgency in it. They have all the time in the world. He gets it. All he wants is her too. And he's gotten her.

"Just you," she whispers, sad and small.


End file.
